


Icicles and Snow Leopards

by Adi_mou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Frozen (2013) Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adi_mou/pseuds/Adi_mou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes had had mixed feelings about his brother; then Mycroft went and cast the entire country into an eternal winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icicles and Snow Leopards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicolebrander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolebrander/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Frigid Negotiations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374532) by [Liathwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liathwen/pseuds/Liathwen). 



> Liathwen already wrote a brilliant Frozen AU, but Nicole’s Frozen!lock with Sherlock as Anna really made the muse do a back flip in my head and so…this came out. Hope you all don’t mind!

Ice bit at his face and he never hated Mycroft more.

His leather boots were ruined, his horse was gone, he couldn’t feel his nose, there was snow in his eyes and he blamed his brother.

_Caring is not an advantage._

Sherlock stomped hard on the snow covered ground, wishing his brother had done the logical thing of actually telling him about his _goddamn magical ability_ instead of bottling it up (all those scientific connotations, the experiments that he could have conducted, Mycroft was a selfish _brat_ ) and then unleashing it in a ballroom filled with valuable allies—this was so like Mycroft.

Lazy, fat bastard going off into the storm like some swooning princess, refusing to let logic rule and choosing to flee, refusing to let him _marry—_

Sherlock sneezed and felt utterly miserable. This wasn’t fair. His coat was damp and laden with snow, he was cold, and there was no end to this wretched forest in sight.

No sooner had he thought it that a soft yellow light reached his eyes.

_Shelter. Brilliant._

* * *

 

It was a peasant shop, and it was just what he needed. Ignoring the clerk’s _(“Name’s Mike, lad, maybe you’ll want a brilliant offer on our summer collection?”)_ suggestions, he reached for the lonely looking coat and gloves in the far corner of the shop, before shuffling towards the fireplace, warming his coldest extremities.

“Awfully cold, the weather, eh?” Mike the clerk said, as Sherlock shrugged off the poor remains of his best coat.

Sherlock hummed noncommittally. He detested inane conversation.

He warmed himself sufficiently before tugging on the new clothes, telling the clerk that he would ensure the palace reimbursed him for his supplies (Mike refused to take him seriously so he ended up giving up his coat and the expensive brooch pinned to his shirt pocket in payment) when the door burst open.

It was a petite woman, her form wrapped in winter furs and her face hidden in a scarf, only her eyes visible. _Orphan, ice worker, stressed, probably because livelihood at risk._

“Your finest steak, Mike!” she said cheerfully, at odds with what Sherlock gleaned from her person at a glance. “Also, bit of sugar for my horses too.”

“Molls, we don’t have steak,” Mike said. “And even if we did, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“But you know Toby gets hungry during our trips, and you’re the only shop for _miles.”_

_Toby? Cat, traces of fur evident in trousers. Trousers? Definitely orphan, raised away from society, or raised in a laid back one._

“I’ll give you one chicken.”

“I can’t travel to the mountain with just one chicken to feed Toby!”

_Mountain?_

“You’re going to the mountain?” Sherlock asked, effectively killing the clerk’s retort. The girl, Molls, nodded warily.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’ll pay you in steak if you could take me to the mountain top.”

The girl snorted behind her scarf, took the chicken proffered by the clerk, slammed a few coins on the wooden desk, and turned heel out of the shop.

Sherlock followed.

“What makes you think I won’t keep that promise?” he shouted to be heard over the din of the snowstorm. At least his new boots and coat kept him warm, and his gloves were doing their job. “Excuse me, lady--,”

“Oh fuck off mate, I ain’t doing shit for you,” she turned into a barn and would have slammed the door in his face but he elbowed his way in.

He almost stumbled out at the sight of the snarling snow leopard crouching on top of a haystack.

* * *

 

Molly Hooper, as the woman was called, scratched the back of her _pet’s_ neck as she chewed on her lip thoughtfully. Sherlock knew he’d had her convinced, but he needed a final touch.

“I’ll also promise to make you the officially endorsed snow supplier in the country,” he finished after a long winded tale during which Molly asked a million questions before she believed him. “But only if you get me up to the top of the mountain, and then get my stupid brother and me down from there.”

Molly frowned at him. “It seems like your brother’s the one who should be the snow supplier around here. And he put me out of a job. Why should I help any of you?”

“Because you’re an orphan struggling to make ends meet; I’m a prince willing to make all your troubles go away. Don’t girls dream about this sort of thing?”

Molly laughed disbelievingly. “You haven’t been around girls much have you?”

“Nevertheless, Miss Hooper, I’m perfectly willing to make you all happy and care-free. But do you agree?”

“I do, I guess,” she replied. “Just don’t insult Toby and you’ll be fine.”

Sherlock eyed the snow leopard, now as docile as a cat as it chewed on the remains of a chicken. “Oh I won’t. Come now, we mustn’t waste time--,”

“Oh no no no,” Molly quickly barred the barn door. “No going out till morning. There are wolves and all manner of things that’ll eat me and my horses out at night, and I’m not willing to risk my life for you yet, Prince.”

Sherlock huffed but conceded her point. Dawn was only a few hours away, Mycroft was at the top of the mountain and wouldn’t be going anywhere at the moment, so he could afford to let his guide submit to her paranoia a bit.

He refused to sleep on the hay, even when Molly spread a worn blanket over it (it had leopard fur all over it, he would be damned before he slept on _that_ ) and settled for sitting inside Molly’s wooden sleigh. At least the seat was plush, if a bit old.

“Hey, Prince Sherlock,” Molly said suddenly, long after he thought she had fallen asleep. “If you’re here, and your brother’s up on the mountain, who’s in charge of the kingdom?”

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this,” Sherlock snapped but relented. “The Duke Moriarty and Lady Irene are in charge, in my place.”

“Lady Irene…that’s the woman you’re gonna marry if your brother lets you?”

“Yes, and I’m going to marry her regardless. My brother isn’t the boss of me.”

“Ooooh do you love her? She beautiful?”

“Beauty is a social construct based solely on childhood impressions, influences--,”

“Ugh. Do you love her then? Just answer my question.”

“I only just met her.”

Molly sat up suddenly, staring at him in the dim fire light of the barn. “What? You’re gonna marry a woman you just met?”

“She’ll be a valuable ally, her family’s coffers will greatly add to mine, and she’s smart, so our progeny will be of the best-,”

“Ew. Stop. Stop!” Molly laid back down and curled in on herself. “You rich people are just…you’re marrying someone you just met, all for those reasons?”

“They are perfectly logical reasons.”

He was sure she rolled her eyes.

“Molly, go to bed.”

“Just admit you liiiiiiiiiiike her because she’s pretty, and I will.”

“Goodnight, Molly.”

**Author's Note:**

> See those tiny buttons there? The ones with ‘comment’ and ‘kudos’ on it? Yeah. Press those if you’re to encourage me to actually finish this.  
> Dear Nicole, I blame thee for this plot bunny. When we meet I shalt force thee to feed it more. It requires carrots.  
> xx


End file.
